The Terminal

Part One – The Terminal

Looking back, he had spoken only three sentences to her, and that was the first. They had written back and forth for quite some time, starting when she sent him a message on a popular fetish website. They had seemed to click quickly and well, talking about things both mundane and fantastic, and he had a knack for finding out things about her that she hadn't even known herself.

The phone call she received before they met was not from him personally, but rather "her Handler". An assistant, friend, servant, or submissive of his... she was never told which, and it didn't really matter in the end. They had discussed the travel plans, (oddly enough) the layout of her hotel room and its bathroom, what she could expect and should not expect, and various other minutia. The last thing Handler had told her was that her safe word was to be, "Magenta." She was to bring only one plastic baggy with her, which she was to refer to as "her safety", containing a cell-phone, identification, and money and/or credit card. Upon speaking the safe word she would immediately be released, dressed, and taken safely back to the Terminal. There would be no further discussion or play after that. That is how his Mentor had taught him, how his Mentor had been taught, and so on.

She arrived at the Terminal at 9:07pm. She was tired, as she had not been able to sleep the night before, and was told not to sleep during the trip. She was dirty, as she had not been allowed to shower or clean herself for that same period of time. She had on no make-up, her hair was not fixed, her nail polish was chipped and uneven. She felt like she looked a complete mess.

In their exchanges, she had revealed (rather, he had revealed, and she had expressed after) a deep desire to be reshaped, reformed, & renewed. He had told her that any artists' idea is to start with a blank canvas or unblemished block of marble...but when one chooses to rebuild, one must break something down to its essence and start with the basics. He would do so, but only on his own terms.

Her phone beeped, and she looked in the bag to see that she had a voicemail. It contained only four simple words. "Your Safe word is Magenta." She could not later explain why, but she played the message over and over again. It sent a tingle through her. After she had heard it thoroughly, she closed the phone and placed it back in the bag. She looked up, and knew him instantly.

He stood over six feet tall, relaxed, and confident. The cut of his clothes was not of the highest caliber, but clean and crisp and relaxed. A burgundy long sleeved shirt sat over black jeans, and low-top black boots. He had a walking cane in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other. His greying dark hair lay in a low-banded tail over his right shoulder, and his dark blue eyes gazed into her soul.

As she walked over, he handed her the bag, and pointed towards the ladies room. She stuttered out a hello, which was met only with a stern look, and the unwavering finger pointing to the lavatory door.

She walked into the ladies room, closed and locked the door. Placing the bag upon the counter near the sink, she opened it to find a note. It read, "Wear this, and nothing else. Bring nothing else, save your safety." Under the note was a white suede collar with a small open Masterlock in the ring, with its key in it. Nervous, but excited, she stopped there to remove her clothing (disposable, due to a 'friendly' tip from Handler) and she placed the collar around her neck, and slid the shackle of the lock back in its place. Back in the bag, she found a pale satin nightshift of a moonstone hue. As she drew it out, she noticed it was absolutely filthy, covered in splatters of mud and other filth. She knew she should feel revolted, and was confused by the surge of thrill inside of her as she placed the stinking cloth over her body. The bottom of the bag contained a thin olive-hued trench coat. She slid it on, and then threw the bag, her old clothes, and even the note into the Wastebin. She placed her 'safety' in the coat pocket, and walked back to him.

He stood in the same place, unmoving, unwavering, waiting. His hand came up, and his index finger made a circling motion. She turned slowly, and he nodded his approval. He held out his palm, and for the first time, in so many ways, she placed her safety in his hands. He slid it into his pocket, and in the same movement, withdrew a length of chain with a leather thong on the end. The thong was around his wrist, and he brought the last link of the chain to her collar, slipped the shackle of the lock through it, then closed the lock and removed the key. Exposing her safety once more, he placed the key within, and then returned it to his pocket.

Again, wordlessly, he turned around and began to walk out of the building. She stared after him, until that first jerk of the leash brought her to her senses, and seemingly almost toppling over, and she walked quickly behind him to his car.

He opened the door for her, a Devil in Gentlemans guise, and as she sat, he placed the rest of the leash on the dashboard, before closing her door. As he entered and sat in the drivers seat, he shut his door and buckled his safety belt, then slowly took the leash from the dash. He pointed to the floorboard on her side of the car, indicating she could sit there. As she moved down, he slid the leash through the armrest of his door, and jerked it tight, forcing her to lean towards him. He fastened it there, and began to drive.

It could have been minutes, or hours, she was not sure. Everything became a blur of sensation. She could feel the hum of the engine, the material of the seat she leaned on, and each note of il dolce suono as it left the speakers of the car. When the car stopped, and he put it in park and shut off the engine, her world began to focus once more. He unfastened the leash, opened his door, and to her surprise, dragged her out of the car through his door. He prevented her from standing, but rather pulled her on her knees. He closed the car door, and then without so much as a glace around him, led her to the red door of room #17.